


These Streets

by Nishinota



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Baker AU, M/M, fame au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 17:44:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10496280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nishinota/pseuds/Nishinota
Summary: Viktor Nikiforov is a celebrity. His life consists of rigorous dance lessons, world tours, and a strict manager. Viktor has been joking about ditching St. Petersburg for years, but nobody actually thought he'd do it until now.Yuuri Katsuki is a baker. Every morning he wakes up to posters of Viktor plastered on his wall. Before the sun is up, he's handling flour, dough, and sugars to keep his family bakery successful. He often dreams about leaving the quietness of Hasetsu for something more action packed and adventurous, yet he has never taken a step on foreign ground.Viktor wants peace. Yuuri wants experiences. Both of them realize what they want is not always what they get.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic to ever publish so i hope you like it!! don't be afraid to leave comments or suggestions （＾∇＾）

“People like you… like us? We don't get vacation. We live everywhere. Our whole life is a vacation, Viktor.”

Mila Babicheva pushed a lock of her hair out of her eyes. She had been trying to talk Viktor out of ditching Russia to go on a vacation to God-knows-where for days now. Ever since he'd been back from tour, the singer had an annoying urge to leave yet again. Mila just didn't get it, though. Viktor was _dying_ in St. Petersburg, even more so than he was during the final week of his four month long world tour.

“I need a break,” Viktor stated quickly in response. “I don't want to be Viktor Nikiforov. Just Viktor. No… not even that. I can change my name.”

Mila looked at Viktor like he was crazy. She flicked a coin at him. It landed on a pillow next to his lap. “Huh?! Change your name?! Viktor Nikiforov, if you even try–”

Mila was interrupted by a laugh. The laugh belonged to Viktor, who was now a bit red in the face. “Oh my God. You think I would actually change my name to something?”

Mila nodded. “I've seen you do worse. Well… weirder.”

“Like what?”

“Well, we can start with when you tried to convince me to let you sneak into the Grammys…” Mila began, giving Viktor a slightly distraught look.

“I just wanted to avoid the press.”

“And then you wanted to go skinny dipping. At a public hotel.”

“It would have been fun!”

“You got drunk with Chris, declared the two of you in love, and claimed that you were engaged to be married on Twitter. You scared the shit out of Yakov, your fans, the press, and, most importantly, me.”

Viktor paused and tilted his head a little bit. “I did?”

“You did. I have photo proof.” Before she even finished her statement, Mila was looking through her phone for the screenshot she took of the tweet and picture that went with it. Viktor tried to tell her to stop, that he got the point, but it was too late. Mila was showing him the exact tweet that he had sent out just over a year ago, complete with a photo of Viktor and Chris looking slightly intoxicated and with matching rings. Viktor blushed to his ears and turned Mila’s phone off.

“I wish I could burn that from my mind.”

“Some fans took it as a declaration of love.”

Viktor groaned and buried his face in a pillow nearby. “Oh God. As if I'd ever do that.”

It was Mila’s turn to laugh. “What? Love someone? Quite hypocritical of a notorious flirt to say.”

Viktor didn't respond to that right away. He still wore his trademark smile on his face, but he also felt a little tug on his heartstrings. Both him and Mila knew far too well that their manager, Yakov, would never allow for either of them to have a love interest. If the public found out about that, all hell would break loose.

Viktor just affirmed Mila’s statement. “Right,” he murmured. “But that’s not the point! The point is that I, Viktor Nikiforov, dubbed the Angel, am going to a foreign country for a set of months to wind down and relax. I demand it.” Viktor's voice was back to its normal cocky and arrogant nature by the end of his statement. Mila wasn't able to brush off the fact that he had gotten notably weaker at one point, though.

“Whatever. But when Yakov finds out you're leaving, you might as well consider yourself fired.”

“He can't fire me. He needs me,” Viktor exclaimed boldly as he jumped up, throwing a hand over his chest. “I am his great hero, his mighty steed. He sells me, he gets rich. He fires me, he loses it all. Another manager would be quick to take me under their wing. Oh, what a title! Viktor Nikiforov’s adoptive manager!”

Mila rolled her eyes and pulled some of her hair back into a messy little ponytail. Viktor almost told her that she missed a spot, referring to the bottom layers of hair that she didn't pull up. Almost. “I don't have a say in this. The Great and Powerful Viktor makes up his own mind and acts on his own dumbass impulses.”

A grin spread across Viktor's face. “Yes! That's what I'm talking about! The Great and Powerful Viktor is leaving St. Petersburg for _sure!_ ”

—

When the Great and Powerful Viktor sat down to discuss his leaving to his manager, things did not go as smoothly as planned.

“You're doing _what?!_ ” Yakov demanded, throwing a beefy fist onto his desk and sending a small paper flying. To anyone else, he would be intimidating. Hell, to Viktor, he was intimidating. Viktor knew what he wanted though, and he wasn't going to let some old grouchy manager get in front of his whim.

“I'm leaving. Well, the country, anyway. I can still write my music and take dance lessons. I won't have to deal with press. I'm just taking a vacation from Russia and the paparazzi,” Viktor explained as simply as he could. It sounded better in his head.

“Why do you need to go across the world to avoid paparazzi? Why would you want to take a break from the _press_?!” Yakov said loudly, his irritation coming through his voice. “The press is what got you to where you are. Interviews, Vitya!”

“And here I was thinking it was my good looks, sex appeal, and flawless songwriting.”

“You're gettin’ yourself confused with that friend of yours.”

Viktor snickered. Chris would be delighted to hear Yakov confirm that he got famous based on sex appeal. “Whatever. I'm not gonna stay in Russia. You can't fire me.”

“Says who?” Yakov snapped back. “I'm your manager. I can do whatever I want. _You_ listen to _me_ , boy. I tell you to stay in Russia, you stay in Russia. You don't get to go make half-assed decisions that will destroy your career.”

The tone of Yakov’s voice made it clear his decision was final. There was no point in trying to change his mind. Among realizing this, Viktor glared at his manager and jerked back up so he was no longer sitting. Without a word, he turned his back to Yakov and walked out of the room. He hid a small smirk on his face as he walked the halls of the building. _Who cares what the old man says?_ Viktor thought to himself as he pulled his phone out to call a chauffeur. _I'm the Great and Powerful Viktor. I make my own decisions._

—

Two days after the quarrel with Yakov, Viktor found himself on the southern island of Japan called Kyushu. More specifically, he was in a town called Hasetsu located in the Saga Prefecture. Hasetsu was at one point a popular tourist destination, according to Google, but the tourism rates had fallen dramatically over the years. Now, Hasetsu was just a boring town by the sea. It was the boringness that attracted Viktor to it.

It was the early morning on the first week of April. The golden sun had cast orange hues over the town, banishing the purple night to the corners of the sky. Gulls sang their beach songs and fisherman left the sandy shores in their skiffs to go on their adventures to the sea. Viktor silently wished them luck. Ordinary people were so lucky with their boring lives. Wake up, go fishing, come back, and repeat. No hustling around to finish songs and no scary fans. Just… calmness. Viktor was jealous.

Nobody knew where Viktor was, only that he was gone. He assumed that they would know he left for his vacation. Yakov was probably pissed off at him, Mila was probably worried, and Chris was probably trying to save Viktor's ass even though he had no idea where he was. Viktor didn't care what they were doing, though. He only cared that he was finally on the well-deserved vacation he needed, and he would damn well enjoy it.

Viktor found himself wandering the streets of Hasetsu for a good hour or so. The streets seemed endless. They twisted and curved and led way to new buildings and parts of the town. On Viktor’s way, he passed an ice skating rink, a small market street, and even what looked like a ninja temple.

The ice skating rink was called the Ice Castle. Viktor only knew because it had the words printed in English outside of the building as well as Japanese. The amount of Japanese writing here was mind blowing to Viktor. He _knew_ it would be here, but in this amount? It was wild.

The market street wasn't fully awake yet. Many merchants were either not there or just setting up their stands for the day. Very few were actually ready to sell their produce. Viktor saw vendors of fish and herbs and fruits and vegetables and trinkets and books and spices packed side by side. He made a mental note to return later so he could buy something for Chris or even Yakov. Maybe a mini version of the ninja temple would cheer up the old manager.

The ninja temple apparently was not actually a ninja temple. Its actual name was the Hasetsu Castle. The Hasetsu Castle just looked really cool over the trees. Viktor didn't actually go near it. He just admired it from a distance.

After the castle, Viktor stumbled upon a bakery. Katsuki Bakery, as it was called, was painted emerald green. The color had began to chip from the obvious years of use the building had been through. The emerald green was also turning into a more dull gray. It was okay, though. The worn out colors gave it a type of home-y feel. The flowers in the window box only added onto that.

Viktor peered into the large windows. The interior looked nice and cozy. Green plants brightened up the beige walls, and there were currently no customers in the bakery. Perfect.

Viktor found himself entrapped in the aroma of baking bread as he entered the bakery, head held high.

—

Viktor Nikiforov looked good in the posters in Yuuri’s bedroom. He looked good in the outfits he wore in photoshoots. He looked good in the pictures the paparazzi took secretly. He looked good in the pictures his friends had posted on Instagram of him drunk.

But in person?

Viktor Nikiforov looked like a fucking god.

Yuuri Katsuki surely did not expect to see his lifelong idol walk into his bakery at the crack of dawn, but there he was in all his glory.

“Wait… _Are you…_?” Yuuri began, stopping everything he was doing. He didn't really think about the fact that he was embarrassing himself.

The man Yuuri knew as Viktor Nikiforov tilted his head. “Who? Me?” he asked, scratching his head.

Oh God. His voice was actually even better in person.

And his hair fell perfectly over his eyes…

Yuuri shook the love hazed fanboy away and nodded. “U-Um… sorry,” he began, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks. Yuuri averted his gaze to the counter for a moment before looking back at Viktor. He couldn't take his eyes off him. “Welcome… to Katsuki.”

Yuuri noticed Viktor relax a little bit at this. The singer was now approaching the counter where Yuuri spent his days. Yuuri stood anxiously as Viktor studied the pastries and breads and sweets behind the glass. “What's that?” he asked, pointing to an airy looking pastry with cream and strawberries on top.

“That's a Napoleon. It… has berries. Blueberries and strawberries… and cream. Whipped cream.”

Yuuri really was trying his hardest to _not_ seem completely weird. It wasn't every day that someone's idol walked into their bakery. Yuuri didn't want to blow it.

Viktor nodded as he listened, putting a finger over his lips. He pointed to another pastry, and Yuuri explained it again. Each time, Viktor nodded as if the concept of a freshly made macaroon was mind blowing. Yuuri actually started to wonder if he was being genuine or just pretending.

Eventually, Viktor settled on a cinnamon muffin. He was still having problems with the drink, though.

“Do you guys have, like, coffee here?” Viktor asked as he looked at the menu.

“Yeah. We do.” Yuuri pointed towards the section where the different types of coffee that they served were listed. Yuuri hoped Viktor wouldn't ask about which drink had what in it.

Viktor let out a little _hmm_ and touched the countertop with a fingertip. Viktor Nikiforov was _actually_ getting breakfast at Katsuki Bakery. Yuuri couldn't believe it. Yuuko and Mari probably would just laugh when he told him. Phichit, on the other hand, would believe him. Phichit and Yuuri could throw a party for themselves with a banner saying _VIKTOR NIKIFOROV KNOWS I EXIST!!!_ thrown across the room.

After a moment, Viktor spoke up with that heavenly voice. “Yeah, I'll try the green tea,” he stated.

Yuuri took a moment to comprehend what he said. Green tea? Wasn't he just looking at the coffee? Did he even know what green tea _was_? “Alright,” Yuuri said hesitantly. He jotted the order down on a notepad, but it was unnecessary. Yuuri knew he wouldn't forget Viktor's order. A receipt printed out for Viktor and Yuuri pushed it forward with two fingers for him to sign.

Viktor grabbed a pen from the little cup that held writing utensils on the desk. He signed his name in curvy cursive and flashed Yuuri a bright smile that could have made him pass out. A few moments later, Yuuri pulled the receipt back. He would have thrown it away if Viktor was a normal customer. Instead, Yuuri glanced up to check if Viktor was looking at him. Luckily, Viktor was busy taking interest at the things hung up on the walls. When he was sure he coast was clear, Yuuri looked at the signature and was surprised to see a little heart scribbled next to Viktor's name. Oh God. A heart. Yuuri pocketed the receipt quickly and let out the deep breath he had been holding.

Did a signed receipt count as an autograph? Maybe. Was it illegal to steal a receipt? Maybe. Would Phichit be jealous to see that Yuuri had something signed by Viktor Nikiforov himself? Absolutely.

Yuuri receded back into the kitchen to check on the muffins he had put in the oven prior to Viktor’s arrival. They had just a few minutes left to bake, leaving Yuuri in the silence of his kitchen.

Yuuri took yet another deep breath as he thought of the posters in his room. Viktor was a figure in his life for years, but now he was _real_. Real and in the bakery, ordering and waiting for his food. Yuuri had to hold himself back from freaking out. Did he look okay? Were his glasses tilted? Were the muffins going to taste good? Would Viktor ever come back?

Yuuri’s thoughts were interrupted by the beep of the oven. He opened the oven door, knelt down, and took the muffin pan out. The smelt good and none of them looked burnt, thank God. Yuuri set out a plate and even wiped it clean despite it having been washed previously just to make sure it was a perfect little breakfast for his idol. Yuuri was in the middle of setting the muffin down in the dead center of the plate when a disturbing thought hit him.

Maybe Viktor didn't deserve the fame Yuuri had given him.

It sounded illogical, but was it? The celebrity basically poked fun at Yuuri for looking up to him. At least, that's what it felt like deep down. Viktor seemed to have himself on a pedestal that allowed him to look down on everyone else. In interviews, he had always seemed cocky, but in person, he wasn't as down-to-earth as Yuuri had hoped.

Yuuri pushed the intruding thoughts aside and blamed it on the fact that Viktor was probably just a bit uncomfortable to be in a foreign country. Yuuri focused on pouring Viktor's tea instead of his own mind.

A few minutes later, Yuuri carried out the breakfast and looked for the spot where Viktor had sat. He had to scan the building twice before he saw Viktor at the table for two by the window. His head was on the table and his shoulders were slumped over. Yuuri assumed he was just tired.

Yuuri walked slowly over to Viktor and hesitated before tapping his shoulder. He cleared his throat. “Um,” he began, rocking back on his heels. “The muffin finished. And I have your green tea, too. Enjoy.”

Viktor perked up at the sound of Yuuri's voice. Yuuri took a step back, not knowing if he should leave the man alone or not.

“Thanks,” Viktor mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “Sorry. Just jet lag.”

Yuuri nodded. “I understand.” He was lying. Yuuri had never been on a plane.

Yuuri began to retreat back into the kitchen to make another batch of muffins when he heard Viktor let out a little gasp. “It tastes so good!” he exclaimed. When Yuuri turned around, he was pleased to see Viktor grinning. “What is even in this?”

“O-Oh…” Yuuri stammered. “It's just cin–”

“It's _amazing!_ ”

Yuuri felt a heat rise to his cheeks. There was no way he could ever dream of his idol complimenting his baking, yet it was happening.

“Th-Thank you,” Yuuri murmured, giving Viktor a little smile.

“No, thank _you_ ,” Viktor said with a wink before going back to his muffin. Was he flirting? With _Yuuri?_ No way. Not in a million years. Viktor was just a charismatic celebrity.

Yuuri blushed even more. He bit his lip. “Oh. I-I… you're welcome? I guess?” Yuuri averted his gaze to the floor. It was obvious that he was a fan. Viktor was probably freaked out and would never come back. Yuuri didn't know why he expected Viktor to return in the first place, though. It was only a small bakery among the many in Hasetsu. Viktor hasn't even left yet, though. Why was Yuuri worrying so much? “It's just a cinnamon muffin. And green tea. How is i–”

Before Yuuri could continue, he cut himself off. He almost just asked Viktor how the tea was. _If he wanted to make a comment, he would_ , Yuuri told himself. _Don't push it. Don't be weird_.

Too late. He was already being weird.

Yuuri took a step back, looking at Viktor as if he expected him to say something. He was about to go back to the kitchen, but Viktor spoke up.

“Finish your sentence,” Viktor stated, his tone a little amused. Was that what Yuuri was to him? Amusement. Yuuri could've been offended, but he instead chose to be flattered. Besides, Viktor was a source of amusement for Yuuri as well. It balanced out. When Yuuri didn't answer, Viktor tilted his head. “You were going to ask something.”

Yuuri started to say something, but he stopped after the first syllable. What could he even say. “It was nothing. Was just going to ask how the tea was. First one I made all day.”

Viktor nodded slowly and looked at his cup. “It's different,” he said, and Yuuri automatically took that as Viktor saying he didn't like it. Viktor continued, “It’s different, but good. I think I like it. It's like the liquid equivalent of that smell after someone cuts grass.”

Yuuri smiled a little bit. He liked it. He liked it. Yuuri could die any day now and be happy. Viktor Nikiforov, world class singer and dancer, just complimented his green tea. “Good,” Yuuri said breathlessly. He rocked back on his heels. “That's good.” Yuuri paused. “Am I… being weird?”

Viktor chuckled and sipped his drink. “No, it's fine. You're not being weird. I think it's cute.”

Yuuri had to do a double take. Cute. _Cute?!_ “C-Cute? Oh God, no. Just shy. Nervous. Well, maybe not nervous, just intimidated?”

“Intimidated?”

“Well, you’re–”

“I'm?”

“You didn't let me finish,” Yuuri muttered, burying his pink face in his hands. “Forget it. I'm embarrassing myself.”

“I find it flattering.”

Yuuri groaned and peeked at Viktor through his fingers. Viktor was smiling. It was kind of a half smirk, but not all the way. There was a bit of genuinity in his smile, the way his eyes shone and his little dimples appeared. Pictures of Viktor smiling were plastered across Yuuri's walls, but he had never seen him smile in this way.

Viktor squinted his eyes. It took Yuuri a moment to notice him trying to read his nametag. “Oh. It's Yuuri,” Yuuri said, straightening out the nametag on the left side of his chest. “It's in Japanese.”

Yuuri may have been calming down a tad bit on the outside, but his mind was shouting at him. _I just introduced myself to Viktor Nikiforov!!! He tried to learn my name! He likes my tea!!!!!!_

Viktor smiled again with that smile he had earlier. “Yuuri? That's a nice name. I like saying it. Did you know I know a guy named Yuri?”

When Viktor said Yuuri’s name, Yuuri felt replenished. Refreshed. This was a dream. He was talking to Viktor Nikiforov in the flesh.

_Viktor Nikiforov likes my name!!!_

“Oh. Really? I think I've heard that somewhere,” Yuuri said quietly. Viktor was fidgeting with the wrapper of his muffin, tearing at the edges and making them frilly. Was that a nervous habit? To Yuuri, it was. Maybe it was different to Viktor. Why would Viktor be nervous around someone like Yuuri?

“Heard that somewhere, huh?” Viktor teased. “I didn't know people know people at my dance studio in Russia.”

“He's a dancer?”

“He is.”

Yuuri nodded, smiling a bit. Viktor had just told him something no other fans really knew, right? He felt special. _Astounded._

Viktor watched Yuuri play with the edges of his shirt. “I like your smile.”

There he went again. With the flattering compliments. Yuuri was careful not to get too excited. Viktor probably complimented everyone he met. He'd walk out of the bakery and never come back. Yuuri might even run into him flirting with someone else. “Why do you keep doing that?” Yuuri asked, putting his hands behind his back.

“Doing what?”

“Complimenting me. Saying nice things.”

“Isn’t it universally accepted to be a nice person?” Viktor answered. “There's a lot of nice things to say about you. You're very pretty.”

Yuuri blushed again. He imagined his face was the color of roses. “I-I’m just a guy,” he mumbled.

“A pretty guy.”

Yuuri took a mini step towards Viktor. “Why are you here, anyway? To Japan. Hasetsu, of all places.”

Viktor shrugged. “I got tired of being constantly busy and crowded in Russia. So I came to a quiet town in Japan.”

Yuuri nodded slowly. He could understand that. Being as famous as Viktor was would be taxing. He deserved a break.

“How long are you staying?”

Viktor answered this with a simple shrug again. “I'm not sure. I like it here, though, so probably a while. I won't leave until they drag me back to Russia.”

Yuuri nodded, letting out a small sigh. Viktor was staying. There was a chance that this wasn't their last exchange. “Oh. Well, I hope you enjoy it here. The tourism is down, so it should stay quiet. I can't promise anything once people find out you're here, though. I've talked to some who would go across seas for the chance to meet you.”

Viktor chuckled. “Really? Me? I'm just a guy.”

“A pretty guy,” Yuuri murmured, barely loud enough for Viktor to hear. Normally, he wouldn't say anything like that. Why did he just now? He was reckless.

Viktor smiled at that, finishing off his green tea. “I know. But traveling overseas for a pretty guy?”

“I've considered it before.”

Viktor chuckled and balled up what was left of his muffin wrapper. “As much as I wish I could stay and chat, I'm afraid I finished eating. I have to go search for this dance studio,” Viktor said as he stood. He yawned, rubbing at his eyes. “Do you think they'll treat me funny?”

Yuuri paused, reaching forward to grab Viktor's now empty plate and cup. Viktor was taking dance in _Hasetsu_? “Dance?”  
Yuuri asked hesitantly. “Where? Do you know?”

“Ah… I'm not quite sure of the name of the studio. But I think the instructor is something like Minako? Don't quote me on it, though.” Viktor looked at Yuuri curiously. “Why? Do you know her? Could you show me there?”

Yuuri shrugged, taking a step back. He was careful not to drop the plate and cup in his hands. Minako? Viktor was taking from Minako? It was fitting, considering that they were both multi time world champions. Yuuri could already feel himself intimidated once again by Viktor. As soon as he dropped from Minako, Viktor took the spot back. “Minako-sensei. I know her,” Yuuri said softly. It was an understatement. He had taken from Minako for years. “I-I have to stay here. The regulars will start coming in soon and I can't get anyone to cover for me, you know. Not that I wouldn't love to! It's just work.” Yuuri's voice trailed off on the last sentence and he started to head back to the kitchen. “Her studio is in the more urban area, though. Did you see the Ice Castle? It's near there. Easy to find. Good luck, and come again! Have a good day.”

Viktor could be heard yawning again back in the dining area. “Oh. That's fine. The cute baker boy must serve his duties. I'll manage to find it by myself, then.” The door was heard opening, signaled by the little bell that rung when it moved enough. “But I’ll see you soon, Yuuri! I like it here. I'll be sure to stop by. I think I have a thing for bakers!”

Before Yuuri could respond, the door creaked closed and Viktor was gone. Yuuri looked out at the street through the windows. Viktor was walking away with his hands in his pockets, simply staring at the surroundings. Yuuri chuckled. Viktor wasn't a simple man, but he seemingly found interest in the simplest things. He would get bored of Hasetsu soon.

When Yuuri set the plate into the sink, he let out a little noise.

_Viktor Nikiforov came to the bakery!!_

_Viktor Nikiforov signed a little heart next to his name for me!!!_

_Viktor Nikiforov complimented me multiple times!!!!_

_Viktor Nikiforov said he liked my baking!!!!!!_

Yuuri wished he could just marinate in his thoughts and live like that forever, but before he knew it, the regulars had arrived. Yuuri let out a deep breath, trying to ignore the thoughts bouncing in his head as he stepped out of the kitchen and returned to the counter where Viktor Nikiforov once stood in front of.

—

His name kept going through Viktor's head. _Yuuri. Yuuri._

It wasn't an uncommon name. Viktor even knew a Yuri. But the way that the Japanese Yuuri moved, the way he talked and breathed and walked, made his name special.

Viktor saw Yuuri in a lot of things that day. Yuuri probably went to the Ice Castle some time in his life. Yuuri probably had walked the same streets hundreds of times. Yuuri had probably danced in the same studio.

Actually, Yuuri _had_ danced in that he same studio. This was evident by the pictures of Yuuri on a shelf near the entrance. He was posed next to Minako, holding a trophy or something. Most pictures were like that. The most recent showed a different emotion on his face, though. Viktor couldn't quite pinpoint it, but he was certain that look on his face was a reason Yuuri didn't mention that he took from Minako before.

Oh well. Viktor walked further into the dance studio. He should be thinking of dance, maybe even be nervous to meet his new and temporary instructor, but he could only think of one thing.

_Yuuri was here._

_Yuuri._


End file.
